Repairing the Irreparable
by quafflelicious
Summary: Ginny and Harry begin to cope after the War.
1. Too Little

_**A/N:** This is my first published fan fiction, so reviews (especially constructive criticism) are very much appreciated. :)_

* * *

The second she heard those words, she felt as if her mind had floated away from her body. It was frozen, lost in space, but her legs ran, ran, ran… Her mouth yelled his name, once, twice. Someone-Neville-held her back, but she struggled against his grip. She had to touch him, to feel that no breath escaped his lips, to hear that his heart no longer beat inside his chest. Ginny couldn't, wouldn't, believe that the worst had indeed happened.

Hot tears ran through the blood and grime that already smeared her cheeks. People were yelling, and there were flashes, but she was elsewhere on the last words he said to her.

And then, back further, to their last kiss, when hope, like sunlight, still streamed through her window. If only she could have stayed with him then, in that moment.

Or when she knew he was leaving, and a glance into his eyes told her all she needed to know.

How long ago was it, when the things that had happened on this night were only worries?

* * *

Ginny couldn't sleep. A soft summer breeze blew in from her half-open window, and she could hear Hermione's steady breathing emanating from somewhere in the darkness.

In truth, she hadn't been able to sleep properly for a while. These past few weeks, she had been tentatively depending on hope that nothing would go wrong.

But now Mad-Eye too was dead, and her hope was slowly sliding of that cliff that led to despair.

Then there was Harry. Why did she have to love him? She knew the answer. Her love for him went beyond his scar or his desperately searching eyes. It was his bravery that could slip into foolishness, his determination, his conviction that he had to carry the world on his shoulders.

And how painful it was for her to love him. For if not all, a great portion of the world did rest upon his shoulders. She knew tat she couldn't carry it for him, and she feared that helplessness, and it hurt her constantly. Then there was the fact that he might not come back.

This thought caught her, and her previous free-flow of thinking ceased. It was incredibly quiet in her small room now, an anxious silence that Ginny could not stand. Desperate to break the monotony, she rose and carefully stepped out of her bed.

She tiptoed over Hermione's sleeping form and slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind her. Ginny walked carefully down the steps to the kitchen, avoiding all the well-known creaky spots.

The kitchen was dark, empty, and spotless, and she pulled out a chair at the table and promptly plopped down on it. She rubbed her eyes, and then rested her head on her hands. This table held so many memories, good and bad, of a peace that no longer existed.

There was a creak on the stairs, and her head flicked around towards them.

"Who's there?" she asked, heart pounding.

"It's just me." Ron said, stepping out into to the kitchen, his pale features now visible in the moonlight.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked, as he took the seat across from her.

"Shouldn't you? Besides, you're a bridesmaid, no one's going to be looking at me and my dark circles."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. And then grinned, saying;

"I wouldn't say 'no one'."

Even in the dark, she could see him blush, and she knew he was thinking of a certain someone's sleeping form one floor up. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Ron sank his head down to rest on his crossed arms.

"Ron?" she whispered.

"Hmm?" He looked up.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said "for last year."

He raised his head.

"What?" he said, looking positively perplexed.

She sighed.

"It's just, you're going away for who knows how long, and I didn't want you to go away and hate me and not know that I was sorry for everything that happened last-"

"-No, no not that. Why are you apologizing? It was me, I shouldn't have, you know, said what I said, and then been such a git and bollocksed things up with Hermione."

It was now her turn to look bewildered.

"And besides," he continued, "don't worry about me. We'll be fine, the three of us."

Suddenly, it was better. The weight in her stomach was lessened greatly, if not gone completely. It was odd, that Ron, who was usually so- well, Ron- was the source of this alleviation, but she thanked him so much internally.

"Well," he sighed, rising from the table, "I'm going to go get my beauty sleep. You should, too, Ginny."

He turned and walked towards the steps, and began climbing them, but she cried out.

"Wait!"

He walked down a couple stairs.

"S'matter?"

"Thanks." she said, trying to sound as sincere as she felt.

"Any time," he said, and creaked slowly up the stairs.

* * *

They were back in the Great Hall again, and mayhem engulfed them. Everywhere there was fighting, not only magic, but outright tooth and nail, fist and every conceivable weapon fighting. She could tell that they were winning, as she saw dozens of black-robed Death-Eaters fall at the hands of her comrades…It was as if everyone, just like her, were not going to let the dead die in vain.

Dead…the word filled her head like a monotonous drum…dead, dead, dead…he was dead…dead…dead…

But somehow, it just spurred her forward, beating along with her heart.

And then she saw her:

Bellatrix, long black hair whipping behind her, still cackling madly, and a surge of hatred and fury so gargantuan she nearly vomited rose in her stomach.

She caught her, attacked her, let loose all her pain on her. Somehow, Luna and Hermione were there, but Ginny could tell that they were slowly losing. Killing curses flew close, so close, but they were nothing, she thought, just bludgers, bludgers… And then one came so close to her that she could feel it singe her through her clothes and she thought she was dead, but then her Mum was there and fighting for her.

She was pulled or pushed, she couldn't tell, back into the surrounding crowd. Ginny could only watch, completely dumbfounded at the formidable power surging from the two witches.

But then, with one last laugh, Bellatrix was dead.

There was a flash, and a mutual gasp, and suddenly Harry was alive, standing there, completely whole and breathing and **alive**…

And now she was sure that she was dead, for her heart must have stopped beating in her chest.


	2. Enough

Ginny sat curled up on her favorite chair by the fire. It was less of a fire now, the glowing embers, adding only a small amount of light to the otherwise dark common room.

She was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. She envied those upstairs, lost in all peace and quiet. It was the suddenness of it all: how it all ended in one fell swoop. Ginny wondered how long it would take to get used to it: the absence of fear and the end of all the horrific things that had happened last year. In the end she was glad that Tom was gone, that Harry was free from him, and that she would never, ever have him use her again. But there was still an overwhelming sadness about the entire affair, instant, whereas the happiness would take time to take effect.

Ginny wouldn't let herself think about Fred, or Tonks, or Colin, or anyone for that matter. She stared at, studied really, the fireplace, with its carved mantel and smudges of ash. The odd shape of the pieces of charred wood intrigued her. Maybe she just forced herself into thinking that it did, to distract herself.

This sleeplessness irked her incredibly, so she rose quietly and walked a couple times around the room. Absently, the last time she approached the portrait hole she pushed it open, wincing at the creak.

* * *

The earth was shaking. They were running, she didn't know where really, except towards something just as terrifying as the chunks of rock falling from the ceiling. She heard a thump behind her, and Colin had tripped.

She ran back and helped him up as quickly as she could, and they burst through a door-

The wind rushed out of her and her right arm felt like it was ripped out of its socket, and suddenly she was dangling over several floors of staircases, hanging off the top landing of one of the half-obliterated flights of stairs. She looked up to see Colin, straining to keep her from falling, legs wrapped around the remnants of the top banister.

"Give me your other arm!" he puffed between breaths, gritting his teeth.

There was a crack, followed by a louder one, and the platform began to shift, steepening the angle at which it was perched.

"Come on, Ginny!"

"If I-we'll both-Colin-"

"COME ON!"

With one last breath, she swung her left arm up and he caught it. Slowly she was halfway up, and he slowly moved backward off the platform back onto the floor of the hallway.

The landing was groaning with her weight, and she was going to fall, she was sure of it, but with a great heave he pulled her up and she was lying on the dusty floor of the hallway. Ginny groaned as reached to touch her shoulder. She sat up to see Colin with his head against the wall, practically panting with exertion

"Guess we'll have to find another way to go." she sighed.

"I guess," he said, "how's the shoulder?"

"I think it's dislocated. Want to help me pop it back in?" she asked.

He grimaced.

"Not particularly."

"Oh come on, what's the worst that could happen?" she said, nearly smiling.

He raised his eyebrows, saying:

"I mess up your shoulder permanently and ruin your chances of playing professional Quidditch."

At this, she did smile.

"Professional Quidditch? After this mess? I can't even picture it still being out there."

He looked saddened at this and hung his head slightly, but looked up again determinedly and said:

"So what do you need me to do?"

"Alright. Grab my arm here- no here- and push up and twist."

He took a deep breath.

"Push up and twist?"

"Yeah."

"You ready?"

"Does it matt-" she began to say, but in that moment he pushed her arm up. She cried out, and for a moment she couldn't see anything because the pain was so incredible.

"Sorry…" he mumbled.

"S'okay." She was lying on the floor again. She must have bitten her cheek, for she had the metallic taste of blood on her tongue. Ginny sat up, spitting out the blood.

"We should go before some of them find us."

He nodded in agreement and stood up. He offered her help, but she refused, attempting to prop herself up with her one good arm. Her attempts were futile, and after a few he grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

"Let's go."

They took off again, this time towards the main courtyard. The walls weren't shaking as much anymore, and the sounds of actual fighting grew louder and louder. "Up here!" he yelled, sprinting ahead of her and opening one of the side doors of the courtyard and flinging himself through it.

She only got one shot of the flashes that ricocheted around the yard when she saw his blonde head whip around as he pointed his wand at the door, nearly screaming:

"COLLOPORTUS!"

"NO! COLIN!"

She could here screams echoing through the door as she threw herself against it.

"Alohomora! Come on, you bloody-Alohomora!"

It wasn't working, and so she ran to the other side of the hallway, turned, and rammed her slight frame into the door.

"Colin!" she yelled, ignoring the pain in her shoulder,

"COLIN!"

* * *

Ginny walked down the hallway in silence, not even bothering to light her wand. She ambled, not paying attention to where she went, but after ten minutes all at once she stopped.

This was it. She peered over the edge of the landing. This was where Colin had pulled her up. There was where he leaned against the wall. There was the blood she spat out of her mouth.

She suddenly realized she hadn't cried for more than a year, and suddenly huge tears where welling up in her eyes. Ginny sank to the floor shaking, curled up and let herself cry, something she so rarely did.

For several minutes she sat there, letting the cathartic release sweep over her. Then she got up, wiped her eyes on her on her sleeve, and promptly walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

She climbed through the portrait hole, and saw that someone was sitting were she had been before. Slowly she tried to back out of the room, but they heard her and got up.

"It's late."

It was Harry. He was standing there like she had just caught him doing something shameful. He was staring right at her, and she realized she was staring back, and she started to wonder whether he could tell that she had been crying.

She hadn't been alone with Harry for ages. She didn't know what to do, she didn't even know what she wanted to do- she wanted simultaneously to run out of the room, and to hex him, but also to kiss him. She decided it was worse just standing there, so she looked down at his shoes and began to walk towards him deliberately, stopping just in front of him. Ginny brought herself to look at his face, and it mirrored the same uncertainty that she felt. He reached and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his bruised fingers shaking, but she didn't care. This was Harry, and the precarious nature of everything was gone.

Ginny wrapped her arms around him and nestled her cheek into his shoulder. There was a momentary pause, but then he pulled her closer to him, resting his face on the crown of her head.

They stood there like this, and suddenly it was enough. She could hardly tell what it meant, but she knew it was enough to make up for all their months apart, and somehow it spoke volumes of all the things they both felt.


End file.
